In His Shadow
by JanEyrEvanescence12
Summary: When the Shadow rescues a young radio actress and takes her under his wing, little do they know that their lives are now intertwined forever. Reimagining of how Lamont Cranston/The Shadow met Margo Lane. Pulp/radio/serial with some movie influences.
1. A Fuse is Lit

In His Shadow

**A/N:** My usual disclaimers: all copyrights go to those who rightfully own them.

So I was inspired by watching the 1994 flick _The Shadow_ (which is the only Alec Baldwin movie that I like) and decided to create a new story as to how the Shadow and Margo met. The world has some things from the movie but is mostly based off the pulps/radio show/serials.

With that said, enjoy and destroy.

* * *

A Fuse is Lit

Something was wrong. I could feel it in my gut as I flipped the sizzling bacon in the cast iron skillet. Most normal people would've shaken it off or chalked it up to nerves.

But then again, I wasn't your average twenty-four year old woman in 1937 New York City. My mom often joked that I must've had a sixth sense. How did I always seem to know what was going on and that nothing could surprise me? She had no idea of how right she was…

Things are fine. I tried to reassure myself. Mom and Dad are just running late from rehearsals at the Mercury Theater. They'll be home soon and we'll settle down to BLT's and rehearsal for _Beauty and the Beast_. But I still couldn't shake the feeling that something was really wrong.

And there was another feeling. That there was somebody watching me…it wasn't a bad or evil feeling. It was a protective feeling. I turned around to the fire escape, open on account of the muggy August night. I tightened the ribbon holding my long brown hair up in its bun. There was nobody there. But I still had the sense that somebody was there. I sensed a man wearing a large hat, and a long cloak and scarf.

Could it be…oh yes, it had to be him…

A sad feeling overcame me. Everything finally made sense. "Mom and Dad are dead, aren't they?" I asked, hoping I was wrong but knowing I was right.

"Yes." A disembodied and sinister male voice said from the fire escape. "I'm sorry."

I squinted, trying to see who was there or how he managed to make himself invisible. But all I succeeded in doing was giving myself a headache. "How come I can't see you?"

"The clouded mind sees nothing." The voice floated. There were footsteps as whoever it was walked around the table. A chair pulled out, seemingly of its own accord. "Sit." He ordered. Numbly, I did as ordered. The footsteps returned to the other side of the round table. A chair was pulled out and I heard the sounds of somebody sitting down in the chair. It scooted inward.

"What happened?" I asked. I just _knew_ that he had some degree of responsibility.

"Your parents crossed a man they were investigating and landed with cement shoes in Hudson Bay." His voice had a sense of regret. There was a flash of movement and something landed on the table. It was a silver ring, embedded with a pearly white opal. I recognized it as my mother's. Dad had one just like it, but the band was wider and the opal was larger. "Your parents were two of my best agents."

"Agents?" I felt numb. How did they manage to keep this one a secret from me? "Why didn't they tell me anything?"

"Because I ordered them not to!" The voice snapped angrily. I also sensed that he was the reason why I didn't know what my folks were up to. He _must've_ blocked my thoughts somehow…"There is much to do and I have little time to teach you."

"You don't know anything about me…" I argued back. What makes this guy think _I_ can help him?

"Your name is Marguerite Agnes Lane but go by Margo. You're the only child of Walter Brown and Anne Gibson Lane. Both were disowned by their affluent families when they chose radio acting as their profession. You're following in their footsteps, having just been recruited by the Mercury Theater and making your debut next month as Belle opposite Orson Welles' Beast in _Beauty and the Beast_. You're an avid reader, preferring the classics and were mostly homeschooled. There is a scar on your right knee from where you slipped and fell on the ice last winter. And the bacon in your skillet is burning. Is there anything else I should tell you?!" He snapped at the end of his spiel.

Running back to the stove, I turned off the burner and moved the skillet. "Join me, Margo Lane. Become who you were born to be."

"Get out." I said in a cold voice.

There was silence. I sensed that he was angry. _Very_ angry. And yet…he decided to respect my wish and leave me alone…for now anyway. I listened as he pushed the chair away and left through the fire escape. He was gone, but I didn't feel alone.

For some reason, he had left Mom's ring on the table. I touched it; it was still damp and was cold. Did he take it off her cold dead fingers…? Everything began to sink in. Grief at my parents' murder. Fear of what was going to happen to me. And anger. Anger because _he_ was responsible. True, he might not have dumped their bodies over the bridge. But if he hadn't gotten them involved…

God…I began to cry, holding Mom's opal ring in my hand. "Why…_why_?!" Sobs wracked my body.

* * *

Hidden in the shadows, he watched her from the fire escape. Marguerite was crying, he could sense her inner turmoil eating her alive. A normal human being would've felt pity. And a small part of him did feel sorry for her. But there was something far deeper to her.

He just _knew_ that there was.

If there wasn't, then why did he feel her strength anchoring her down?

Marguerite wiped her face dry, kissed the white girasol stone and carefully put the ring on her finger. A new look slipped over her face like a veil. Gone was the frightened face, instead there was a calm determination.

She's accepted her fate. She's accepted her destiny. A worthy successor…unlike the last one, a mistake he had made…he would be after her soon.

A knock came at the door. He could just smell the evil intentions of the people on the other side of the door. Silencing his footsteps, he stepped inside the apartment. He wasn't going to allow anything to happen to her. But not yet. He needed to see how she's react in a situation where danger threatened her.

When it got to be too much for her, then he'd step in. He didn't need to have psychic powers to know that she wasn't a battle hardened commander like him, but a shy and naïve young radio actress.

* * *

I was going to pack up my most important things when somebody knocked at the door. Something didn't feel right. Maybe it was because I could feel him standing behind me, a watchful protective presence.

"May I help you?" I asked. Because the door didn't have a peephole, I had to open the door. But I made sure the chain link was fastened.

"Margo? It's Mr. C. I heard about your folks." The voice was familiar. Peeking through the crack, I could see Mercury Theater's biggest sponsor; Oscar Conway, Mr. C for short. Lanky and tall. Mussed up dark brown hair. Vibrant blue eyes under thin wire glasses. Dressed in his usual nice charcoal brown suit. He was smiling sympathetically. "May I come in?"

Normally, I would've unlatched the chain and let him right in. But something was wrong. How did he know what happened? It also didn't help that I was sensing that he wasn't alone; the others were standing off to the side, out of my line of sight. How did he…unless…_he_ was the one Mom and Dad were investigating!

My invisible guest was silent, watching. Why? Was he trying to figure out what to do next? Or was he trying to see what _I_ was going to do?

"Margo? Are you okay?" Mr. C asked.

"Yeah." My mind grasped at straws. The pistol…"Give me a couple of seconds, please. I…I need to rinse my face…"

"I completely understand, take your time." Mr. C smiled as I closed the door. His smile now seemed evil, false. I shivered despite the heat. I rinsed my face in the kitchen sink, as if to cleanse the memory away. I hurried to the end table where Dad had stashed his service pistol from the Great War. Grateful that Dad had shown me how to load and fire that pistol long ago, I began slipping ammunition into the chambers.

**CRACK! SNAP!** What was that?! I whipped around as the door was kicked down the chain snapped in two. Two burly men ran inside, the ones I had sensed. Fire the goddamned pistol, Margo! I raised the pistol to fire, but I felt a violent tug on my arm. It felt like an invisible somebody was pulling on it with all their might. What the…?! I watched, dumbfounded, as the pistol flew out of my hands and into Mr. C's. He stepped into the apartment, still smiling.

"Did you really think you could fool me, my dear?"

"What…what do you want?" I shivered, backing into a corner by the still hot stove.

"Don't play games with me; I know he's visited you. What has he told you?"

My hand happened to rest upon the handle of the cast iron skillet, still hot. The bacon grease was quietly popping. I got an idea. "He told me to give you this." Gripping the handle, I swung the cast iron skillet in his direction. Hot and slick bacon grease flew into the face of one of the men. He screamed and ran off, I don't know where he went. I swung the heavy skillet into the face of the other.

But he was faster and caught my free hand. In a flash, he moved my arm to my back and bent my elbow. His grip felt like a vise. I felt my bones ready to break. Screaming in pain, I dropped the cast iron skillet. It landed on the ground with a loud clatter.

Mr. C looked at me with a cold and sadistic smile. My blood ran cold. "Very clever, my dear. But you'll regret crossing me." He turned to my captor. "That stove burner looks hot. It could burn her cheek, now wouldn't it?"

* * *

He watched from the fire escape, having managed to hide himself from Mr. C's gaze. So far Marguerite was smarter and braver than he anticipated. But she was foolhardy and didn't take the opportunity to run after throwing the bacon grease in that man's face.

Marguerite screamed and fought back as the much bigger man pushed her head close to the hot stove burner. He sensed her desperation. She was screaming for help, her frightened blue eyes looking at him.

Now he had to step in. Getting to his feet, he ran into the room.

* * *

My cheek was close to the hot metal. I could feel my skin beginning to blister.

Then the laughing started. It was frightening and loud. There was an almost evil quality to it. I felt an icy sensation running down my back. My captor stopped and looked around in fear. Even Mr. C looked afraid. "You murdered two of my best agents…Conway." The laughing stopped and a creepy voice said in an echo. "Did you think you it was going to escape _my_ notice?"

I saw the large shadow against the wall, of a tall man wearing a slouch hat and cape. "Oh shit! It's him! It's goddamned Shadow!" My captor whimpered.

I took the distraction and got out of the man's grip. "Get out of here, Marguerite!" the Shadow ordered. I didn't need to be told twice. I ran to the fire escape and began running down the stairs two at a time. Behind me, I could hear the sounds of a fight. But I didn't look back to see what was going on. Hurry up, Margo! I thought as I nearly tripped several times as I made my way down.

Once I reached the alley at the bottom of the staircase, I had to make a decision. Where was I going to do? Where was I going to hide? But I didn't have time to decide. Somebody grabbed me from behind, locking me in a chokehold. It was Mr. C. I gagged as he hissed in my ear. "Think you could get away?"

"Let me go!" I screamed, trying to stomp on his foot and kick him. But the effort only resulted in him tightening his ironclad grip on me. Lights began dancing in my eyes and my chest burned for air. Nobody was coming to my aid, not even the Shadow, where was he?! "Somebody! Please help me!"

The effort, unfortunately, exhausted me. I eventually gave in, hoping he'd release his grip and let me breathe. But he didn't. If anything, he tightened it. I felt my vision spin and I was getting dizzy.

"You're going to regret that you know…" Mr. C's tongue licked against my hairline. I felt disgusted.

**WHACK! **There was the sound of a punch being thrown and his grip released. I fell to my knees, gasping for air. I watched as their shadows battled against the walls.

* * *

Conway's remaining lackey proved to be more challenging than the Shadow anticipated. What the Shadow had in his power of invisibility and tactical genius, the lackey made up for with sheer strength and unending determination. He felt himself growing tired after throwing several punches that were repeatedly blocked. But the Shadow didn't want to use the pistols in his shoulder holsters. The police couldn't hear a fistfight from this high up. But they could easily hear a gunshot and would come running.

He needed to be stealthy and silent like his namesake. If they were to come now before his infiltration into Conway's criminal web was complete, everything would be blown. Conway was slippery as an eel, he could get off scot-free and then Annie and Walter would have died for nothing.

With that in mind, the Shadow focused on finding a weak point in the lackey's fight style. And find one he did; a hard kick to the shins to distract him. The lackey fell to the floor, groaning. The Shadow kicked him in the head, sending him to the floor in an unconscious heap.

He heard Marguerite screaming from the street. Projecting out his mind, he saw that Conway had grabbed her and was now trying to pull her into the getaway car. Desperate, the Shadow jumped out the window and began running down the stairs. The Tulku who trained him was said to have harnessed the power of flight, traveling great distances in a short distance without being seen. But it was a skill he never passed on to the Shadow, claiming it wasn't something learned but came after years of practice and meditation.

Marguerite had managed to keep Conway from dragging her away. But he could see that she was tiring. Summoning up his strength, the Shadow began attacking Conway. His former protégé had never been a fighter, preferring to use his wits to escape confrontation. A simple twisting of Conway's wrist and flipping him over his shoulder was enough to call the fight in the Shadow's favor.

The Shadow looked down at him. Conway couldn't hide the fear in his eyes. It felt so satisfying. "She is under my protection now. If you harm her…_nothing_ can save you." Conway nodded, frightened. The Shadow punched him in the face. He could hear the bones popping and cracking like popcorn.

_Moe, it's time. Come get us. _The Shadow projected his thoughts out to the loyal cabbie waiting a few blocks away. He could hear the cab revving up and coming closer. He went over to Marguerite, who was at this point kneeling on the ground, shaking. A quick glance over confirmed that she was unharmed but very frightened. He offered his hand to her. She looked at it, unsure if she should take it.

"Come with me." He ordered as the yellow and checkered cab came swerving around the corner. Marguerite was either too frightened or wise to ask him why. Impatient, he grabbed her hand and pulled her up.

The timid girl finally snapped. "You won't treat me like that." Marguerite finally lost her fear and yanked her hand back.

A spark of admiration crossed his eye. But it lasted only a few seconds. He wouldn't be disobeyed. She'd have to learn her place as his apprentice. He merely glanced at her. Her spirit immediately became meek and humble. But he'd have to remember to keep her in line.

* * *

I shivered as the cab doors opened but was determined to keep him from controlling me. At that moment, I swore that I was going to beat him at his own game. I would help him, but only for avenging my parents' murder.

Pretending naivety and meekness was my best defense, I allowed myself to get into the cab. I didn't think he would hurt me. While he was frightening and with a touch of evil, I sensed that he wanted something with me.

The cab smelled like onions and beefsteak. The bulky cabbie had his back to me, a large newspaper cap was on his head. I felt the Shadow get in next to me. "Drive." He ordered.

"Yes, boss." The cabbie responded with a thick Brooklyn accent. He slammed his foot onto the gas pedal and we were launched forward. We wove through the streets of New York. Horns honked and tires screeched as the cab made its way to the fancy Long Island neighborhood. It was the place where the hoity-toity folk lived. Quite different from the life I had lived.

"May I ask why we're going here?" I asked nervously.

"It's your first assignment." The Shadow said, looking forward. He didn't turn to face me. "I need you to get close to Conway. Your training as an actress will help you. There will be more information at the safe house. A courier system will come by every day. You will give your reports to them and they will relay them to me. When you hear one of my agents say 'Today is a lovely day', you will reply 'Yes, but it seems that I've forgotten my umbrella.' This will identify you to each other."

I felt a shudder go up my back as we parked at this beautiful townhouse in Long Island. As I was about to open the door, I felt the Shadow's grabbing my elbow. "Your life as Marguerite Lane is over and done with." The Shadow said to me in a cold tone. "Conway _will_ be after you and he _will_ kill you the first chance he'll get. You cannot go back to your old life. Do you understand?"

I nodded, it hadn't really sunk in yet. The Shadow passed me my key and let me leave. I got out and unlocked the door.

* * *

The Shadow watched as Marguerite went inside the house. He projected his mind out, making sure she locked the door behind her. Leaning back against the black leather seats, the Shadow sighed, taking off his hat and scarf. Moe was one of the very few who knew his secret. "Home."

Moe turned back to the Cranston estate, about eighteen blocks away. For a while they were silent. "Do you really think she's the one, boss? Especially after what happened last time?"

"She has to be, Moe." The Shadow said as he looked at his ring. "She has to be."

* * *

**A/N**: I know Margo is kind of a damsel in distress and the Shadow is a bit of a bastard in this. However, this is Margo before we know her and I'm going to have her really grow up in this work. Also, the pulps Shadow is a scary bastard who won't hesitate to abuse/terrorize/kill anyone that gets in his way.

So does anyone want more?


	2. Becoming Kitty Welles

Becoming Kitty Welles

The brownstone was as beautiful on the inside as the exterior indicated. Nice appliances, paintings on the walls and comfortable looking furniture. The Shadow was loaded, whoever he was. I thought as I took off my shoes and began exploring.

In the master bedroom, I found the information I needed in a dossier laying on the bed. I was now Catherine Welles, home from being educated at a prominent finishing school in Paris. I was from old money and had inherited a sizeable trust fund from my late grandmother, a noted eccentric recluse. Also included was an invitation to the famous Cobalt Club set for eight tomorrow evening. Now I had to make sure I had something to wear for the evening.

Opening the wardrobe, I saw that it was jammed packed with all sorts of dresses, hats, shoes, coats, scarves and jewelry. Of course I would be ready, I thought happily as I closed the doors. Now for makeup. There was a small room off of the bathroom. Inside the room was a large vanity. The drawers were filled with what I can best describe was an actor's dream supply of blushes, foundations, greasepaint, creams, eye shadows and lipsticks.

Also in the room were all sorts of appendages to complete my disguises. False teeth, moles, beauty marks, moustaches and wigs to name a few.

I was grateful. Mr. C had a thing for blondes with short hair and even shorter skirts. As my long and dark hair was my pride and joy, I didn't wish to change it. The sight of a beautiful blonde wig allayed my fears that I would have to cut and dye it.

From everything I had learned and the brownstone, I began developing a picture in my mind of the role I was going to play. She was a young single woman about town. Well educated but not interested in intellectual pursuits. Up to date on all the latest fashion trends, juiciest gossip and hottest stars in Hollywood. Sociable. Bubbly. Excitable. Fast. Interested merely in having fun and living. Everything I wasn't. This was going to make it a challenge.

But that was the nice thing about being on the stage. I could become another person.

* * *

Lamont Cranston sat down at his usual booth at New York's swank Cobalt Club. One of the waiters recognized him and hurried back to prepare his favorite drink. He checked his watch. A quarter to eight. She would be here soon. He needed to see how her introduction to Conway would go.

Marguerite was a young actress, nowhere near as experienced as her parents. He was also there in case she needed to be shielded from Conway's mental gaze. Her introduction to the arts of the Tulku would begin very shortly.

Until that time, he'd need to be around her.

* * *

I stepped out of the cab and walked into the swanky Cobalt Club. It was very overwhelming seeing all the high and rich society folk. And I'm supposed to act like this is second nature to me. One of the valets walked up to me. "May I take your wrap, Miss?"

"Yes, thank you." I said and he gave me the claims stub. Taking a deep breath, I step into the showy grand room.

* * *

He saw her before he felt her presence. She was wearing a low-cut pink dress that showed her slender arms and shapely legs well. At first, he thought she sacrificed her long dark hair for a short blonde bob. That was until, Lamont saw that she was wearing one of the wigs that he had put in the brownstone. She had tucked her long hair neatly beneath a sheer stocking cap and then rested her wig on top of that, tucking bobby pins into the sides to keep the wig securely in place.

She was pretty…but he found himself preferring the old fashioned beauty from the night before…

Marguerite was escorted to a table where she sat down and began looking over the menu. Lamont watched her from his table. She was in character, now just waiting for Conway to show up where he would take notice of her and hopefully begin taking her into his confidence.

A loud sound of giggling erupted. Oscar Conway entered, an attractive blonde woman on either arm. He walked boldly, proud of his playboy status. Lamont subtly planted the suggestion of Marguerite sitting in her corner in his target's mind. Conway turned and saw Marguerite Lane, his eyebrow went up as did the corner of his lip.

* * *

I heard Mr. C. before I saw him. "Well, well, well! Who is this beauty?" My stomach twisted at the thought of looking at the man who had murdered my parents and had tried to kill me the night before.

Courage, Margo. I could hear my parents' voices in my mind, encouraging me to continue the charade.

I turned to look at his charming smile and got to my feet to properly introduce myself. "I'm Catherine Welles. But my friends call me Kitty."

"I'm enchanted, Miss Welles. I'm Oscar Conway and these are my friends Alice and Mildred." Mr. C. said as he lifted my hand and lightly brushed his lips on the knuckles. I resisted the urge to yank out my hand and slap him. Alice and Mildred looked at me and they curiously reminded me of jealous cows. I giggled in amusement, but allowed him to think I was flattered by the attention.

"Oscar Conway? Aren't you the guy who owns all of those retail stores throughout the Big Apple?" I asked.

"That's me and please, call me Oscar. Would you care to join us?"

"If they don't mind," I said, gesturing to Alice and Mildred.

"Of course they don't…come with me, my dear." Mr. C. took my arm and led the way to a table, leaving his girl accessories behind. They followed and I could feel their eyes on me. "Have a seat." Mr. C. pulled out a chair for me.

"Oscar, I want to sit next to you." Alice whined, pouting a perfectly red lip.

"I want to sit next to you too, Oscar." Mildred complained.

"Girls! Girls! There's two sides to me." Mr. C. said as he pulled out a couple of chairs for them on either side of me. "That is, if you don't mind, Kitty."

This was fine by me because I didn't want to be anywhere near him. "Sure, I'm fine. Actually that's perfect because that means I get to fawn over you all night long." I said, putting on a smile.

Mr. C. blushed. "I'm very flattered."

The waiter came over. "What will you have to drink tonight, Mr. Conway? The usual?" He asked, taking out his pad.

"Of course, and what about you, Kitty?" Mr. C. asked. "My treat."

"Oh, um…can I have a sparkling lemonade please?" I asked before realizing my blunder. That's what I always had when we went out to dinner…but Kitty is supposed to be cosmopolitan! She only drinks the best wines and spirits!

"You don't like champagne, Kitty?" Alice asked, looking at me as if I was insane.

I had to come up with something…then I remembered my schooling… "Oh, sparkling lemonade is _the_ hip drink in Paris, especially at Harry's New York Bar. My girlfriends at school and I used to have it every time we went there." It was surprising how it just slipped off of my tongue.

"You know what…I think I'll have one too!" Mildred said.

"Me three!" Alice chimed in.

Whew! I felt a huge sense of relief.

"Three sparkling lemonades and a Dom Perignon then." Mr. C. said, an amused smile turning up his lips. I was on my way to impressing them. "So you spent time in gay old Paris?" He asked, pronouncing the city's name in the French manner.

* * *

Lamont studied Margo, or Kitty, as she was calling herself. After that near slipup with the drinks, she had smoothly integrated herself into their world. It was entertaining, he thought as he watched her. Margo had her character prepared. Young. Fast. Bubbly. Blonde. Not too bright. Just how Conway liked his women. Speaking of which, he seemed completely taken by the beautiful girl. Lamont found himself not needing to shield Margo as he thought. Conway had swallowed the bait…

As clever as she was pretty.

Hopefully she wouldn't prove to be _too_ ambitious. He doubted it though. She was meek, naïve and shy last night around his alter ego. But…there was something deeper to this young woman…he could just _feel_ it.

* * *

Throughout the dinner, I got the sense I was being watched. It wasn't creepy or anything like that. Maybe fascinated. But it was odd. After a while, I turned my head to see who was watching me.

Sitting at a table across the way was a man, a few years older than me. The candlelight at his table reflected off of his dark blonde hair. I could feel his dark blue eyes on me. His boyish face smiled at me, like anyone else would. I felt myself smile back but couldn't help but think that there was something different about him.

"Kitty? Kitty? Hello?" Mildred's hand waved before my face. "Are you alive?"

"Hmm? Oh, sorry, thought I recognized somebody, that's all." I said, returning to my meal. But I couldn't bear it anymore. "Hey, Oscar? Who is that watching us across the way?"

"Who?" Mr. C. looked up. "Oh. _That's_ Lamont Cranston." He said with an envious glance.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"The guy is trouble." Alice said. "There's something wrong with him." She tapped her head.

"Got a few bats loose in the belfry?" I said, forcing myself to grin.

"That would be a good way to describe him. As is several bananas short a bunch." Mildred giggled.

"Not the sharpest knife in the drawer?" Alice said.

I wanted to wince. I didn't like talking bad about anybody behind their backs. But I had to continue. "A few toppings short a sundae?" I said, shooting Cranston an apologetic glance. He nodded, as if to say he was used to it and had no hard feelings.

"You are such a clever little thing, aren't you, Kitty?" Mr. C. said, cutting up his veal cutlet.

"Is…that a problem?" I asked, feeling anxious. What if he could see right through me?

"Not at all." Mr. C. said. "In fact, I think it makes you all the more charming." He sounded and looked sincere, so I accepted his words. Yet it made me somewhat uncomfortable.

"Thank you, Mr. C…" I said.

"I thought I told you to call me Oscar." Mr. C said.

I realized that I had made a second blunder and thought. "I mean…I think Mr. C suits you better, because C can be short for…Classy…Charming…Cosmopolitan…but of course, if you want me to call you Oscar…"

Mr. C smiled. "You may call me Mr. C then. As long as it means I can call you Kitten."

* * *

The dinner went off without a hitch. Lamont thought as Conway led Marguerite to the dance floor. The man had fallen completely for Marguerite's charm. To be honest, Lamont couldn't help but be taken with the young woman himself. She had proven that she had a clever and resourceful nature beneath that shy and naïve shell. Not to mention quite pretty…

But she was to become his protégé. His successor…he couldn't afford to get too close to the young woman. Lamont made up his mind. Her training would start. Tonight. After Conway dropped her off at home.

* * *

It was nearly midnight when Mr. C dropped me off at the brownstone. "Thank you for the fun evening, Mr. C." I said as I unlocked the door.

"Thank you, Kitten for such a pleasurable one. I trust to take you to an evening at the Lafayette Theater in Harlem? There is a wonderful production of Macbeth. I've got box office seats."

"Macbeth?" I had heard of the play, it was a success thanks in part to Orson Welles, the director of the Mercury Theater. "Isn't that Shakespeare?" I said, frowning my nose. Margo Lane adored the Bard. But Kitty Welles didn't like opening a book. "No offense, Mr. C but one class on him was enough to put me to sleep."

"It is Shakespeare, but I think you'll be impressed with this production. It's set in the Caribbean during slavery times and uses voodoo instead of medieval sorcery. It's quite enjoyable, I think you'd like it."

I wanted to tell that I'd rather spend the night in a pit of snakes. However, appearances needed to be kept up. Mr. C had fallen for Kitty and Kitty had to be taken with the cosmopolitan man. "What time?" I asked.

"Will six tomorrow night do? The show starts at seven-thirty and we'll go out to the Starlight Café for dinner." He said as he leaned in. "I'll make sure they have your sparkling lemonade." I allowed him to kiss me. But I was distracted by an odd sensation. It was the feeling of being watched.

Somebody was in the brownstone.

Somebody wearing a slouch hat, cape and scarf. The Shadow…of course I couldn't see him. But I could feel his presence.

"What's wrong, Kitten?" Mr. C asked, looking behind me. "You seem very distracted."

"Hmm? Oh I'm fine, I'm just really exhausted. But I would love to go with you. Do you want us to meet up at the Starlight?"

"How about I pick you up here tomorrow at six?" Mr. C said.

"That's perfect. You have a wonderful night." I said as he kissed my hand again.

"You too, my sweet Kitten." Mr. C said as he turned to the cab.

I wanted to scream as I closed the door. The thought of spending another minute in his presence…but that ended when I heard the swirl of fog and the step of his boots on the hardwood floor. I looked up and saw the Shadow. Meekly and submissively, I bowed my head. I was desperate to keep up the façade that I was a shy little wallflower. If he had any idea how much I detested him…

"I don't have anything to report, sir…" I said.

"I'm not here for that. I'm here for your training." He said, staring down at me.

"Training?" I asked, feeling a strange sense of foreboding. Why do I get the feeling that I'm _not_ going to like this? I wondered.

"We have the same gifts of mind reading and extrasensory perception. With training, you will be able to do the same things I do." The Shadow said as he turned to my room. "Come with me."

I followed him. Inside was a group of unlit candles set in a circle. He stepped into the circle and stood still. Within a second, the candles automatically lit. After a moment, they extinguished themselves.

"Impressive." I said.

"You'll do that now." The Shadow said, stepping out of the circle and gesturing me to enter.

"How?" I asked as innocently as I could.

"Imagine the flame." He said, clearly impatient. "Imagine it burning brightly."

I did as he ordered and imagined the little flame burning on the candle. Nothing happened. I tried harder and harder. But still nothing happened. I felt my head beginning to throb and pulse in pain. "Ough," I said, rubbing my temples.

"Try again." He said, his voice firm. "Don't think of the flame. Feel its heat. Feel the energy coming off of it."

I wanted to roll my eyes but decided that it wasn't worth provoking his wrath. Ignoring the pain, I closed my eyes but kept imagining the flame. Each second, the image got stronger. But it also made my head hurt that much more.

Finally, just as the pain got to be its worst, I felt a little sense of relief. Like a hole being poked in a balloon filled with water. Something rushed out and the pain went away. Opening my eyes, I saw the candle before me burning. It was a tiny and weak flame wavering. But it was there.

Feeling proud of myself, I turned back to him and smiled. He didn't smile or even blink, making the smile fall off my face.

"We're going to work on it until you can light and extinguish all of those candles without effort." The Shadow said coldly. "Even if it takes all night."

* * *

"Again." The Shadow ordered Marguerite once she had extinguished the candles one by one. After several hours, she had perfected her ability. Now she could light all of the candles without much effort. But she was still having trouble getting them to go out all at once. Now it was almost five in the morning. The dark sky outside was beginning to turn into a predawn gray.

The candle flames snapped on as she turned to him. "Can we please continue this some other time?" Marguerite asked, her red eyes showed how exhausted she was. Tears began to roll down her made up face, smearing her makeup. "I can barely keep my eyes open. Please…I'm so tired."

"No. We're going to do it until you get it right." The Shadow barked, glaring her down.

Something deep in her snapped. The exhausted look turned into one of anger and rage. "I'm not doing it anymore."

As exhausted as he was himself, he wasn't going to let her have the last word. "You _will_ do as I say." He said, trying to hypnotize her as he did with many other people.

She shook her head, trying to fight off the suggestion. "No. I'm tired and I'm _not_ going to do it." She said. "Not if you keep treating me like that."

His anger was brewing. He _should've_ known that she was going to be a handful. So that was the conniving little secret beneath that little act she was putting on. She was trying to fool him into underestimating her. Not tonight. Not ever. Not if she was going to be his successor…he _always_ got his way.

The silence between the master and pupil became deafening. Something was brewing behind those angry blue eyes. It reminded him of a spring being tightly wound before its release. Part of him was afraid of what was brewing behind her mind and wanted to squash it before it caused some major damage. But he sensed that it was the breakthrough she needed to master the test.

**WHOOSH!** A massive burst of pure physic energy erupted from Marguerite's mind. The Shadow felt himself fly off his feet and to the floor. **CRASH! BANG!** There was also the sound of shattering glass and something also hitting the ground. After a second, it was over. Groaning, the Shadow got to his feet.

The energy blast had not only knocked him to the ground, but it also shattered a nearby vase and blew out the candles.

Marguerite's body lay in the circle, not moving. That burst was enough to turn her into a living vegetable or even kill…

He had seen other exhausted pupils push themselves to the limit. Some became vegetables, devoid of all personality and thought. Others had paid the ultimate price…unfortunately Conway wasn't one of them.

A feeling pricked at the Shadow's conscience. It wasn't anger or fury as he was expecting. Nor was it sympathy. Concern, perhaps?

Shaking off the feeling, he felt out for her mind. She was fine. The energy burst combined with her exhaustion had merely knocked her out cold. She'd be out for several hours and awaken with a massive headache. But she would be all right.

Sighing, he picked her up and carried her to the bed. Marguerite's wig and stocking cap slipped off, revealing her long and thick mane of brown hair. It fell over her face. Mindlessly, he brushed the mass out of the way before pulling the blanket over her.

No…he couldn't get attached. The Shadow thought as he began cleaning up the mess. He almost made that mistake with Conway. The young man became almost like a brother to him, just as firm a bond as it was between him and the other men beneath his command during the Great War. That was until he revealed just how strong his lust for power was…the Shadow had just barely managed to keep Conway from discovering the truth about Lamont Cranston.

* * *

The sun was peeking over the cold waters of the Bay when the Shadow slipped out of Kitty Welles' townhouse. Moe was waiting, having just started the morning shift. "Home." The Shadow commanded.

"How'd it go?" The cabbie asked.

"She's going to be a handful…" Lamont Cranston groaned as he took off his scarf and hat. "A _real_ big one..."

* * *

**A/N:** The voodoo Macbeth play that Conway mentions wanting to take Margo to see actually did happen. It was hosted at the Lafayette Theater in Harlem, New York and secured the reputation of the twenty year old director, Orson Welles who later became the voice for the Shadow on the radio, established the Mercury Theater before going on to his movie career with classics like "Citizen Kane" and "Touch of Evil". A real wunderkind, he was only twenty-one, twenty-two when cast the titular role of the Shadow.

However, the play was hosted for a few weeks during the summer of 1936, a year before this story was set. For the purposes of this story, I had it set for the next year.

So…enjoy and destroy.


End file.
